


Love, Sirius Black

by ProfessorDrarry



Series: Will You Write Me a Letter, Sing Me a Song [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, First War with Voldemort, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Letters, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorDrarry/pseuds/ProfessorDrarry
Summary: The letters they wrote each other were the beginning of it all. The beginning of forever. The beginning of the end. They were how they found each other, and how they lost each other. They were pointless, and yet they were everything.And Sirius Black had kept every single one.PART TWOThe beginning was so easy, you could almost pretend that things were perfectly fine. When you read them now, it seemed like everything was. Until it simply wasn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part two. This chapter stays pretty fluffy, but beware the coming war. It's still there. Sorry :(  
> Coming chapters will contain canon compliant violence, death, sadness. I don't want anyone to be surprised. Last thing to note, this part is going to be less of a narrative, so it might feel more disjointed.  
> As before, James is bold. Replying at the bottom of a letter (or Remus in class) is in italics
> 
> Bonus: A musical scrapbook for part two on Spotify, [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/professordrarry/playlist/6ykBZ6sFVfVPuGw6ukWrXc). Listen on shuffle ;)

_\--1997--_

The box had once lived under Sirius’ bed. They'd both known that Remus knew where it was, and they both pretended he didn't. He didn't think he was consciously looking for it, but the house was eerily quiet, with no one due to arrive until late the following day. And as he opened cupboards and doors and closets that had been closed for decades, Remus was definitely looking for the box. Because he knew Sirius would not have thrown it out.

He needed to read them. He needed to know that he hadn’t invented it all in his head.

When his hand hit the heavy, rusted metal, he heard himself inhale sharply without feeling it, like it was happening to someone else. He ended up, somehow, in their bedroom. The bedroom they had always used, even before.

It was hours before he moved again.

* * *

_**Chapter One: Seventh Year** _

September 17, 1977

Remus,

You were supposed to meet me at the clock tower. I can’t imagine you forgot, since Moony’s are not in the habit of forgetting. I, therefore, assume that there is some other thing happening. I forgive you, but I am also very much expecting apologies in the form of usual payment…

Is it just me, or was this significantly easier at the beach? 

Yours,

Sirius

_Sorry. Prefect nonsense. Tonight? After rounds. I’ll be late and the common room will be empty._

_\- R_

 

Sirius,

I told you I'd be late, and yet, here you are; asleep when I get back to the common room. You great dolt. Now you shall miss everything I had planned for the evening, because there is no way I’m waking you up.

Your loss,

Remus

* * *

MOONY

_Sirius, we talked about this. Not in class. Wait...are you writing on the essay you have to hand in next class????_

MOOOOOOOONY

 _Fine. I’ll bite. What?_  

Don’t tease. You know I like when you bite.

_SIRIUS. I know it’s only Flitwick, but you are going to get us in so much shit. Just tell me._

Okay. Sorry. James asked Lily out again at lunch, when you were off doing MERLIN KNOWS WHAT. Only she didn’t say no.

_WAIT...WHAT?_

Really? Not going to tell me where you were, huh? Interesting. Only the end of September and already lying to each other. Remus, what will happen to the children????? THE CHILDREN REMUS.

_Peter and James will understand that it wasn’t their fault, that we still love them very much. Now, Sirius, what happened with Lily. Please focus._

SHE SAID YES. They are going out next week. He’s taking her FLYING because he is a humongous cheeseball who is incapable of doing this dating thing There is no way that Evans will stay with him. I’m sure there is an ulterior motive here.

_I dunno. Have you seen her lately? She gets all...starry eyed and confused and stuff. I wonder if she has seen the light having spent so much time with him etc etc. Either that, or it's Stockholm._

Likely the latter. Ha.

_Sirius...was flying your idea?_

...I am admitting nothing. 

_Sirius...you never take me flying._

OH MY DARLING MOONYKINS. DO YOU WANT TO GO FLYING. I SHALL TAKE YOU FLYING. PLEASE LET ME SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET ON MY CLEAN SWEEP.

_Oh lord, I regret ever speaking to you. I was kidding, Sirius._

IT IS TOO LATE. I KNOW YOUR HEART’S DEEPEST DESIRE. COME FLY AWAY WITH ME!

* * *

December 17, 1977

Dear Sirius,

I just wanted to remind you to call whenever, okay? I know, you're going to the Potter’s, and I know James will be there, but… well I'm happy for him and all, but he's been a bit distracted of late. And I'm a little worried about you. I can say that now I'm on the train and you are reading this after I've gone. You can't pummel me (or worse...god, the tickling) for the next eight days. But whatever, I'm worried about you, and if I can't worry about you on paper then I give up. 

Call me okay?

Yours,

Remus

 December 20, 1977

Remus,

Ah, fuck. I should not send this. I'm going to _be_ there in four days, for Merlin's sake. But. Okay, I….this ‘Christmas away from the Black’s’ is far stranger than I’d anticipated. Don’t get me wrong, there are a whole shit tonne of positives about it. The Potter’s are such good people. And they are treating me so well. But.

Walburga likes to put up a twenty-eight-foot tree in the entryway. Have I ever told you about it? That's eight metres, for normal people. But mother prefers the poetry of ‘twenty-eight feet’, of course. The Houselves decorate it with all sorts of ridiculous ornaments. It's like twenty million twinkling things. It’s blinding in the right light. The whole thing is extremely gaudy and I always thought I hated it. Except, there are these enchanted singing pears that are always on? And we are Not To Touch The Tree. So, obviously, Reg and I always have a competition to see who can eat the most of them before Christmas morning. The record (held by me, naturally) is fifty.

I don’t even know.

Miss you, Moons. Please don’t panic. I needed to just get it off my chest. See you soon. Have you decided if you want to run or stay locked up yet? I know the cave is terrible, and I think if I'm there it will be fine. Have I mentioned this week how much I fucking hate that you have to go through a full moon on Christmas? I know. I know you said there's no sense being angry, but I am Sirius Black. I do not contain the sense, so I choose to be angry and there is nothing you can do about it.

Love, 

Sirius

 

December 21, 1977

James,

The owl is awful, I’m really sorry. These are your presents. I meant to have them ready before we left school, but you know what the last month has been like. Anyway, the bird bites, but he was the last post owl big enough.

Sirius probably seems fine, but he really isn’t. I’ve had a very...non-dramatic-for-Sirius letter from him. Can you just. I don’t know, sorry, James. You know what I mean.

Happy Christmas, mate!

Love,

Remus

  
**December 22, 1977**

**Moons,**

**I kind of thought so, but you know what he’s like. I’m on it, don’t worry. He’ll be at yours in two days anyway, so he’ll be your problem then. I tried to talk him out of coming, like you asked, but he has decided that you--and I quote--“Will not be alone on a fucking full moon that lands** **_on Christmas Day,_ ** **you fuckwad.” So there you are. You are stuck with the puppy on Christmas.**

**I am sending back the same bird in retaliation, with your gift from me and something from my parents too. Sirius says, ‘check your trunk, in the red socks at the bottom’ for your present from him. Whatever the hell that means. Enjoy!**

**Love,**

**James**

 

December 26, 1977

James,

Sorry this letter is so late, only just woke up. Remus is still asleep. Everything is fine, though. Seems like it wasn’t too bad a month. Mrs Lupin is making a great big meal tomorrow to make up for it. Talked her out of doing it today, because you know what he’s like. He’ll be ravenous, but hardly in a celebratory mood.

How was your Christmas? Thank your mum and dad for me for the alchemy set. They really didn’t need to do that. I love it though. Dead useful, as usual. Unlike some people we could mention; _191 Uses for Broom Oil..._ Really James?

So listen, mate. Now that you and Lily are together, for the most part, I feel like I can tell you. I need to before it destroys me, but I think you might take the piss. No, scratch that. I _know_ you will take this piss, so I’m going to write it to you instead, give you time to diffuse your jokes and remember all the times I had to listen to you pine after that girl of yours because I am a better friend than you.

I realised last night, after Remus changed back and we were just lying there until he was ready to move, I’ve been very foolish. And blind.

James, I really love him. I mean. I love you too, mate, don’t worry. But. Seriously.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Okay, that’s it. I’ll stop being sappy. I just needed someone else to know.

Still coming to Peter’s for New Year?

\- Sirius

 

**December 27, 1977**

**Dear Sirius Black, The Greatest Idiot To Have Ever Lived,**

**Sometimes, I cannot believe that you manage to walk upright and form complete sentences.**

**First of all, of course you fucking love Remus, you bloody great tit. You’ve loved Remus longer than you’ve liked him. You are so self-absorbed that sometimes you don’t see beyond your own misery. And I mean that in the most loving way possible. But yes, you love Remus. Now you just have to actually tell him that. Because we both know you haven’t told him yet, have you? Of course it’s terrifying. It’s love. There are entire sonnets about how frightening it is, but that isn’t enough of a reason to not tell him. Think about how happy it will make Remus.**

**Idiot.**

**Secondly, you are like being best mates with a giant, whining girl, and I do not appreciate it. Stop having _feelings_ all over me.**

**Lastly, of course I’ll be at Peter’s, just like we all are. Every year. Yet, every year, all three of you seem convinced that _I_ will for some reason forget to make the trip. I have now received a letter from all three of you reminding me to come. Honestly. I need better friends. **

**I hope you are enjoying your time with the Lupins. I am trying not to picture the amount of snuggling, snogging, and all other sorts that is definitely going on between my two best mates who are suddenly alone. Ugh. Now I’m picturing it.**

**See you in three days,**

**James**

* * *

  
Sirius,

The notes you needed for the divination assignment. 

-R

_Thanks Moons, copied them. You should meet me in the library later, and I’ll see if I can read your future (WINK WINK WINK. Hint; I can. It involves less clothing)._

* * *

 February 12, 1978

Darling Moony,

I am extremely disappointed in you for ending up on Prefect duty on Valentine’s day. Our _first_ Valentine’s Day, I might add. As a result, I have written you this extremely embarrassing letter that will only appear in your pocket as you are doing rounds on Tuesday. How, you ask? Well, my darling; I am, as our lovely Minnie likes to point out, a singularly talented wizard when I bother to apply myself. Oh, relax, Moony. The letter is also charmed. No one else will be able to see it. I can practically hear you panicking. 

Oh. I’ve just realised why you are on rounds. It’s because you were the only single one, right? Shit. Maybe we should just... come out with it? What are people going to do, really? Right, Sirius, Focus. He can’t answer you. Moving on.

The list. I’ve been working on it for a while. It might not seem like it, but I am absolutely serious here. Serious enough to use The Word, Moony. So that’s something. Try not to hold this against me, all this cheesiness;

Ten Things That Padfoot Loves About Moony

  1. The Smirk. You know which one.
  2. Your cardigans. More than that, I love that you wear them perfectly, as though you were born in a cardigan. I love that you are always cold, and I love that little shiver that always hits your shoulder blades when you take your kit off.
  3. The fact that you secretly are very good at herbology, but that you let Frank do all the work because he enjoys it so much. You are the kindest human I have ever met. You defend those who need defending, regardless of who they are. We need a million more like you in the world.
  4. The tiny mole on the back of your neck that you refuse to believe is there, but which definitely is.
  5. The spot on your ribs that is ticklish unless I am kissing you. At which point, it becomes the Spot that Makes Moony Moan.
  6. Your need for our hands to always be touching when we are in bed together. I don’t even know if you noticed that, but I love it so don’t you dare stop.
  7. The scar on your right hip that is shaped like a star. I know you hate your scars, but I don’t. And that’s my favourite one.
  8. The smell of your hair when it’s wet. The smell of you always.
  9. The way you say my real name, especially when there is no one else around.
  10. The fact that you put up with me. Even when I’m grumpy and stupid and insufferable.



I love you, Remus. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Let’s just tell people, okay? We can handle whatever they throw at us. Come find me when you're off rounds.

Love,

Sirius

_I love you too. I’m sending Peter with this because I need you. I need you always, but especially right now. Things are so fucked up, Sirius. Lily ran into Mulciber on rounds and...actually, just. Meet me in the Room in fifteen, okay? I’ll tell you everything. We can talk about telling people._

-  _R_

* * *

March 10, 1978

Dear Moony,

IT’S A MOONY’S BIRTHDAY AND EVERYONE SHALL CELEBRATE FOR TIS OFFICIALLY A NATIONAL HOLIDAY NOW. You are now, for a short while, a million years older than the rest of us, confirming your status as the ancient and wise senior of the group (and before you complain, we know you are only two weeks older than James. Doesn’t matter. Those seventeen days make all the difference).

We have a plan to celebrate the fact that a) you are 18, which we are told is a very important age in the Muggle world and b) the relationship of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin is public knowledge within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you are both still alive.

To this end, your presence is requested at nine am tomorrow morning in the Great Hall. Come prepared for all manner of adventure (aka, outside world).

Your friends,

Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

 

March 11, 1978

Dear Sirius,

If you are reading this, it is likely because you are finally awake. Merlin knows what time it is. Thought I'd let you know, for I doubt you remember, I had fun yesterday, exploring the west end, taking in a show, dinner, etc.

However, just one, small, niggly problem. It is generally considered bad form to take your boyfriend out for his birthday, and then drink so much gin that said boyfriend has to carry you to a floo point and practically throw you home.

Now, I am not actually that angry. I think it was pretty hilarious. James is of a very different opinion...as is Professor McGonagall, who had to be dispatched to get you back through the castle. We couldn’t get you up the stairs. In retaliation, James has hidden all the hangover potion in all of Gryffindor tower and has instructed everyone he’s run into not to give you any, on pain of house points. Headboy perks. Also, Professor McGonagall would like to speak to you. She used some of your favourite words-- like ‘irresponsible’ and ‘terrible example to younger students’.

When you are conscious, come find me first. I have a potion that I secreted away. Do yourself a favour and at least pretend to be in misery around James, though. It’d be a shame to have to deal with Angry James for the next million hours.

Love you,

Remus

* * *

April 7, 1978

Sirius Black,

How could you be so fucking stupid? I don’t even think I can look at you right now. What part of telling anyone else that I was a were-creature seemed like a good idea to you? Dumbledore is fuming. He’s spent seven years protecting me, and now he has to deal with the ministry.

Fuck. I’m really angry at you. I was only writing to tell you that I’ve gone home until next week.

-Remus

April 8, 1978

Remus,

Clearly, you don’t fucking know me as well as you thought you did. I’m a Black, after all. Insanity is in my blood. I don’t know why anyone is surprised, really. It’s not worth much, but I am sorry. Avery just wouldn’t stop running his mouth off about Lucius and his plans with that maniac he’s fallen in with, and I just snapped. It’s too much pressure, the registry and everything else. It doesn’t matter. Whatever.

I’ve got enough N.E.W.T. Papers done, so I’m going to leave school early. I bought a flat. I promise to be gone next week before you get back.

-Sirius

April 9, 1978 

Sirius,

Please tell me you are joking. Where are you right now? Look, I’m sorry about the letter. I was angry. It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it. I was going to have to register anyway. We all know that was inevitable. It isn’t your fault, Pads. You’d better write back. I’m going to write to James too.

Love you still, you fool,

Remus

April 10, 1978

Sirius,

James told me he convinced you to stay at school. So we’re at least halfway there. I’m over it. I’d say ‘I forgive you’ but you were just angry, and there really isn’t anything to forgive. Nothing happened that wouldn’t have happened anyway. Will you please write back to me? I’m worried. I hate being worried. Somehow, I fear I shall be spending the rest of my life worried about you, though, so I should probably work on that.

-Moony

 

Remus,

Just come home. Please? I need to say sorry to your face.

Sirius  

* * *

 May 18, 1978

Dear Sirius,

In one month, we will be gone from this place. We will be in the world, expected to be adults and responsible. To that end, I think I ought to grow up a tad. I know, me saying that is ironic, but it’s true.

I didn’t react that well when you asked me to live with you in the London flat. I may have used very salty language, and caused James to say the phrase he usually reserves for you. I don’t think I ever again want to be on the receiving end of a ‘you need to take a step back, _mate_ ’. It was far more terrifying than I anticipated.

I’m sorry I accused you of trying to offer me charity. I know that hurt you, and I didn’t mean it to. I am constantly embarrassed by my life, as you know, but that’s no excuse. If the offer still stands, I’d, of course, like to live with you. You have to promise you’ll let me help when I have work though. (And maybe when I don’t, I can find other ways to earn my keep WINK WINK).

As a form of apology, I made a list for you. I’ve been meaning to since February, but life kept getting in the way. Anyway. Here;

Ten Things Moony Loves About Padfoot

  1. Your refusal to cut your hair, even though it drives you mental. Further to that, the dead sexy way you tie your hair back when it drives you mental.
  2. Your ability to call Professor McGonagall ‘Minnie’ without being either hexed or thrown in detention for the rest of your school career.
  3. The sound you make when I kiss you on the collar bone.
  4. The leather jacket. (I know this may be a bit conceited since James and I bought it for you, but I don’t care. You wearing it is a gift to mankind. You can live on that compliment for the next few years if need be.)
  5. When you write very interesting and engaging essays for class, and yet pretend that you hate school. It’s endearing, although it is also very irritating.
  6. Your passion. You call it moodiness, but you are only ever angry when you think someone else has been wronged. Do you even realise that? I doubt it. But that is the best thing about you, Sirius Black.
  7. The scar under your right shoulder blade that runs under the paw print tattoo.
  8. Your clinging, especially when you are asleep. I forget what it feels like to sleep without the weight of a great dog crushing my internal organs. Don’t you ever stop holding me at night, okay?
  9. When you sing, especially ‘Paradise by the Dashboard’ and you do both voices. I’m not teasing you. I mean it; you should sing more often.
  10. That you put up with me, even though I embarrass so easily, and I’m a coward sometimes, and I have whole days where I can’t remember to smile or breathe normally. That you love me, which is more than I ever expected.



Can we please go back to yesterday, when everyone was happy and excited for the end of term? When Lily was playing with James' hair in the grass, and you kept throwing paper planes at Peter’s head? When the sun felt like the only thing that could protect any of us? I know what’s coming, and so do you. There’s going to come a time when we have to choose how to fight; I promise I’ll be there when the day comes.

Love,

Remus

 

Remus,

Of course we are going to live together. I assumed your anger was a ‘yes’.  
We really need to stop writing these letters. They are making things feel so dramatic. Well, minus the part where you used the wink in writing...I really appreciate that, love. I know how much it must have hurt you to write that.

Still. Let’s just talk okay?    
  
Sirius


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the dates serve as your warning for this chapter.

_1978-1981_

* * *

 August 13, 1978

Dear Sirius,

Is this our anniversary? Do we have an anniversary? Why is it that that feels strange to say? Likely because we are two days away from the frigging wedding and therefore I forget anything that doesn’t have to do with a Mr James Potter and a Ms Lily Evans. I am happy for them, I swear, but I am also quite excited for this whole thing to be over.

You and James have gone on some sort of mysterious shopping trip and you left before I was even awake, and I am shocked and deeply concerned by the level of early morning rising you would have had to accomplish in order for that to be possible. For the record, we are in the middle of a war. A shrivel or parchment saying ‘be back soon’ is not enough information to leave me.

It has, however, given me the opportunity to write this note. I’ve been trying to write it for weeks. A month, really. It’s not been easy to get the words on paper, though, and here we are, with you firmly believing I am a spy.

Yes, that’s right, darling, I know. Mostly because my lovely Padfoot is about as subtle as...well, as a 200 pound black dog, to be frank. I don’t know why it is that you’ve come to this conclusion, but I suspect that Dumbledore is at least partly to blame.

Recognising that this is exactly what a spy would say, I am telling you right now, I am not a spy. I am on a mission, but it’ nothing quite so dreadful as having defected to the other side. I can’t tell you more, so you have to decide what you want to believe.

I have to go still, until tomorrow, just as we discussed. Try to get some sleep, you and James, because you know he’s going out of his head with nerves. Don’t let him drink too much. There is too much to get done for him to be hungover and whinging.

Love,

Remus

  
 August 15, 1978

Darling Moonykins,

You are likely a bit pissed at me for having not brought up your letter with you, but I have been processing. I hope you just go with regular Moony reactions and forgive me as soon as I do that thing you like so much (imagine me winking seductively here, if you will).

I didn’t actually think you were a spy. I mean, James tried to convince me, and I think he had Peter on board, but as I kept pointing out to them, you are terrible at secret moods because you pout too prettily. I also spend a great deal of time in your personal space. So much time that I believe it would have been very difficult for you to have had enough time to spy. Quite frankly, I think that I am more concerned about the fact that you don’t get out often enough, mate. We should take up tennis. Or some other posh Muggle sport, like the one you tried to explain, with the balls and the lawns and the upsidedown hammers? Crochet? Crumpet? Anyway, point is Moony, don’t worry. I don’t think you are plotting the destruction of us all. It would require someone much sneakier to succeed at that-- like Peter!

Ha! Imagine! I can just picture it...Wormy having enough wherewithal to keep secrets hidden. I do amuse myself.

Remus, by the way, you look like sheer perfection in that tux that James is making you wear. I know you hate it, and that I promised you could wear it at the next full so that it doesn’t survive, but maybe before you murder it, we can make better use of it, hmm? WINK WINK WINK WINK. (There really should be a way for me to put a wink on paper. I shall work on that. Letters are really hampering my ability to make you blush. That’ll never do).

I better get back to folding napkins. Lily looks murderous. See you in a few hours, darling boy. I know you think marriage is dumb, but just you wait. You’ll be in tears by the end of it, my great big sop you.

Love. Always,

Sirius

October 10

Morning Pads,

I left a quiche in the fridge. One, I did not make the quiche, so it is very delicious. Two, yes, I know you think quiche is silly, but I also know you haven’t eaten real food in three days, so you’ll eat it if you know what’s good for you. I am at work until 8, in theory, although I suspect today is the day I get let go. Even old Monty at Monty’s Deli seems to have had enough of the, ‘I just need a few days off next week’ gig.

Eat. The. Quiche.

Yours,  
Moons

November 30

Moony,

I can’t remember if you were supposed to be home before I left get back, so I’m leaving this just in case you are. I didn’t get to the bathroom, but if you clean it, I will murder you. Back soon, love.

-Pads

December 10

Sirius,

There was a message on the windowsill from Andromeda? Something about you needing to go and get a book from her? I left it on the dresser, but you never remember to look there, so I’m leaving this on the bathroom mirror. You never forget that one…

-M

                                            December 18

S,

Return Lily’s call about Christmas. She’s getting frantic and I haven’t time this week.

-M

_Told her we were going abroad to explore the options of a timeshare. Was a poor decision. Amended to the truth, and we are expected at 6. I’m out, buying you gloriously decadent gifts that I refuse to allow you to return because you think it’s too much. And no, you are still not allowed to buy anything. It’s bad enough you go out there every day and sling Muggle wears, reducing us to these notes._

_I love the notes, don’t stop writing the notes. I have quite lost the point, haven’t I._

_-P_

 

JANUARY 1, 1979

HAPPPPPPPPPPPPY NEW YEAR. I AM HAVING TO CELLO TAPE THIS TO YOUR FOREHEAD BECAUSE YOU FELL ASLEEP BEFORE MIDNIGHT MOONBEAM. WELCOME TO 1979, THE YEAR BEFORE THE REVOLUTION!

* * *

 July 14, 1979

Sirius,

I forgot to tell you to bring the stupid big umbrella to the beach. I can’t Apparate with it. Please be nice to Lily. It will be important to your continued survival.

See you Wednesday,

Remus

  
July 16, 1979

Dearest Darlingest Moonbeam,

Isn’t this retro and nostalgic of me, sending a post owl like when we were 17? Ah, the memory. The angst. The romance. I LOVE IT.

Did you like the sand?

YOURS,

Sirius

_You knob. I have owled James. Anticipate retaliation. Lily may also be involved.  
-Remus_

July 18, 1979

REMUS JOHN LUPIN,

Reorganisation of my records from ‘poopiest to suckiest’ ON THE ROOF is NOT equal retaliation to a little, teeny, tiny bit of sand in an envelope.

We are no longer speaking.

-Sirius

 _You have to admire their swiftness._  
No more sand, ever? See you tomorrow.  
Love,

 _-_ _R_

* * *

 November 22, 1979

Dear Remus,

I have just had a very irate James drop by. He was most adamant that he had something Extremely Important to tell Both Of Us. When I explained that you were at the library, he became what can only be described as a madman. He began detailing, in great, er, detail, all the ways that our relationship was not functioning at full capacity. Apparently, we do not communicate adequately, or get worried about appropriate things, or argue about the mundane enough. Apparently, we just float around pretending that the entire world is a rose garden in which there is always milk in the fridge and you wake up at the alarm (these were his examples. I don’t know. He seems to have never actually been in a rose garden.)  
To that end;

Remus, it drives me mental when you buy more milk before it runs out. The continued convenience of always being able to make tea is very annoying.  
Remus, you need to tell me more about your day than you do? The half hour catch up we have in the evening is simply too brief and we must stop getting distracted by...distractions.  
Remus, I think perhaps you display too much responsibility. It isn’t healthy.  
Remus, I worry that we have far too much in common and love the same music. Except for Jimmy Jazz. We all know how I feel about Jimmy Jazz.  
Remus, it is highly inconsiderate of you to have an extremely well regulated internal clock that allows you to leave our bed like a stealth ninja every morning. I hate being allowed to sleep in.  
Remus, Lily is pregnant. Which, I assume, is why James is freaking out a little bit.

Why yes, I buried the lead there, but I feel like since I had to deal with James doing it, you deserved it too. We aren’t supposed to tell people because Lily hasn’t told anyone, but as you can see, James is a little unsettled. I’m writing to let you know I’m going to go over there. I have a feeling you also showing up would not go amiss, particularly if you bring Pizza.

We are never getting married. It makes crazy people out of everyone.

Love you,

Sirius

 

* * *

**July 31, 1980  
**

**Sirius Orion,**

**Insert epic levels of sappy prose. You are holding your godson right now, and frankly, it’s gorgeous. I don’t think you’ve ever looked so instantly soft and enamoured. I’d be jealous, but I can’t. I’m writing this down so one day, you read it and you remember the feeling. Remus is looking at you like...well, frankly, it's making me a little uncomfortable, because I can read what he is thinking, and we have talked about you and he telling me things.**

**Harry James is just a few hours old, and yet, he is the entire world. He is a symbol of continuing, even in this crazy world we are a part of. He’s perfection, and I’m glad to know you and Remus agree. I’d have to injure you otherwise. I’m so glad you are here to help me keep him safe.**

**Love,**

**James.**

* * *

 September 2, 1980

Remus,

Where have you gone? I am reduced to sending random owls into the night and hoping they find you. That is not on.

Sirius

  
Remus,

Get your fucking self home right now. I am now officially Panicking. And James says if you don’t reply, he’s going after you. You know that is a terrible plan, with the baby at home. Come home this instant.

Sirius

  
Remus,

Fuck you. Where are you? I love you. Come home.

Sirius

**  
Remus,**

**Please tell me you are alive. If not, I will fucking kill you for leaving me to deal with a grieving Sirius.**

**That was a terrible joke. Please respond.**

**James**.

September 8, 1980

  
Padfoot and Prongs,

Sorry, can’t tell you anything. Not secure. Am fine. Home before the time when everyone with my constitution should be home. Will explain.

Moony

* * *

 

September 19, 1981

Dear Remus,

I know we are not currently speaking, but then you came home last night, and you slept in the bed, and I am therefore I assume we are rounding the corner into ‘Remus is unpleasantly annoyed with Sirius’.

I don’t want to get into it again, so we may just have to sit in this uncomfortable place of you not understanding my reasons, and letting James and I decide.

I don’t want to be fighting, either, just for the record. Did you read the paper this morning? Twelve more dead, Moons. I just don’t think we have time to be fighting with those we love. There’s too much danger.

I’ll be out until supper, but if I bring home a curry, will you eat?

Love,  
Sirius

_I can pretend we aren’t fighting, but I am still not going to eat curry. Don’t worry, I’ll make myself something. See you tonight.  
-R_

* * *

December 1, 1981

  
Dear James,

I honestly don’t know where this is...it’s not going to...Dumbledore suggested I try and write a letter. Not to you, but. I just can’t, can I? I can’t write to him. It’s not even that I believe he’d read it. You don’t get post in Azkaban.

That isn’t the point.

Harry is with Lily’s family. Dumbledore insists it’s the safest place for him; we’ve been trying to keep an eye on him, and I think that he’ll….well, I should have him. No. He should have him. This is getting me nowhere, is it?

I used to play a dangerous game, before I got to school. As I recovered from changing, I would make a list. I made lists of the people that would notice if I died. Not care, not miss me, just notice. On the worst months, the months where we’d just moved or where I’d been violent, the list was only two people. If the list was three or more long, I felt safe. I felt like I needed to stay alive. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The months where it was just two, just my parents, I would lose the light. For days at a time, I wouldn’t eat. I wouldn’t move. My mother would sleep in my room out of fear. The months where the list was two, I had a hard time trying to stay alive.

James, the list...it’s down to zero. I don’t even know what to do with that. Peter. You. Lily.

Him.

I have decided, though. I will remain. I will stay to keep an eye on Harry. I will stay because Voldemort is gone, but no one thinks it's for good. I will stay because you did not get the choice, and I do. I will stay because one day, I may understand what has happened here. It doesn’t currently feel like it; right now, it all seems very, very clear.  
Do you know, James? Do you have insight from beyond the grave? Care to explain to me how it ended up being that you let him be the Godfather, how I let him be...and then how he became what he did? Only a finger left, James. A finger. I’m sure, positive in fact, that it had to be Regulus’ death. It had to be, right? In order to betray you and Lily like that? We always knew the problem would end up being the Black’s, the Blood.

It doesn’t help me understand.

Think about it long enough, and you’ll blame me as much as I do. Maybe if I had been home more in these past few months, maybe if we’d actually spoken as much as we used to instead of writing all these fucking letters, maybe then I’d have seen it coming.

What did Dumbledore say? Ah, yes. _Write him goodbye._ Well, Prongsy, no. I refuse. I won’t say goodbye when a small boy with your stupid hair and Lily’s gorgeous eyes and smile exists. You are still here.

As am I. Rest well. I’ll keep watch.

Love,

Remus


	3. Chapter 3

_**1993-1999** _

* * *

October 29, 1993

Remus,

I am asking myself right now if I am actually going to send this letter. I think if you were here, you’d be smiling that wry smile of yours and shaking your head. You’d say Sirius Black, don’t be a fool. You can’t send a letter. You’re a fugitive. You would, wouldn’t you? Only maybe you wouldn’t because you’re face doesn’t look like it did when we were twenty. God knows mine doesn’t. No mine doesn’t. And mine doesn’t look like it’s aged by 12 years either. It looks like it’s aged by millennium. By decades. By miles. I make no sense when I talk anymore either. Do you know why? I do. But I promise to never tell you, even if I find my way back to you. You don’t deserve that. By now, the words, ‘it was Peter’ would be pointless and empty and require so much more. How can you forgive me? You can’t. Have I Forgotten paragraphs again? I have. Mother. Mother would be ashamed. Let me try harder, darling Moony.

I won’t send it. Don’t worry. It wouldn’t be safe. But I’ve checked on Harry. I’ve discovered the truth. I almost have my proof. I just have to get it. It’s in the castle.

That way, one day. One day you and I...no, Sirius, don’t be daft. He has a whole life. He doesn’t need your broken soul funking it up.

This isn’t going to him, is it, idiot? Regardless, sign it and move on.

Sirius 

* * *

 September 10, 1994

Dear Snuffles

You bugger. Relaxing on the beach and having the nerve to request reading material? Still, I suppose you missed a few best sellers. I am choosing to pretend your list consisted of high taste and a love of literature, and sending you only one volume of ‘Rock Bible’. The woman at the store looked at me with judgement. BOOKS. JUDGEMENT. One day, you will pay for that.

You know who this is.

September 16, 1994 

Person who cared enough to highjack my reading material,

I’m thanking you anyway, even though I really shouldn’t. Listen. Can you check in with our mutual acquaintance? There is very distressing information being sent my way. It seems he’s in danger. Again. His dad would be so proud.

For lack of an easier way to say it, would you please just go stay in the place where the hiding has occurred before? It would make me feel better if I knew you were indoors and safe. Stop fighting me. We both know you have nowhere else to go. Don’t be...well, don’t be me. Stubbornness doesn’t suit you as much as you like to believe.

-Snuffles

_Oh fine. But only because the one in charge at the place where they stay seems to think it would be beneficial if someone was at the place where the hiding occurs._

_Merlin. I can’t wait to stop writing like this._

_-The other who remains_

* * *

April 9, 1996

Remus,

I know we’ve technically agreed that we are fine, but I have a confession. I haven’t slept soundly since you came back from your last trip. I think I’ve finally worked out why. It’s too similar, isn’t it? Both of us in the same place, but not together. Both of us together, but not in the same place. It’s hard. Maybe too hard, to not fall into old patterns. I figured I would write this to tell you that I understand. I get why, and I wanted to tell you. Just in case you are feeling like this too.

Sorry for the added nostalgia, but you know what happens when I try and say these things to your face.

Just so you know, I’m glad you are here. I’m glad I know where you are most of the time, even if I can’t touch you anymore. Even if I can’t love you anymore. It’s like knowing Harry is at Hogwarts. If I can’t be in charge of you being safe, it’s good to think that safety surrounds you.

Sorry, I’m getting sappy. I’ll stop.

 _-_ Sirius

_~~Do you think~~ I think maybe you should just...come fall into old patterns. It’s been a long time, so check your expectations. These old bones...and I have a few more greys. I’m already overthinking this. I’ll just…I’m going to get up and put this under your door before I lose my nerve. Because Sirius? I can't sleep either._

_-Moons_  

* * *

January 12, 1998

Dear Sirius Black,

This is the last one. The absolute last one. If I don’t stop myself, I don’t see how I survive this, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I kind of think I want to try and survive.

It’s been eighteen months, since that day. Since the veil. You’d never imagine how much worse things have gotten. I can’t help feeling that I’m happy that James isn’t seeing it. Or Lily. We were so idealistic, back then, and it’s taken me this long to realise how naive we were, too. Foolish, really. Still, I refuse to stop resisting. I refuse to stop fighting.

You, I wish you could see things. See how much Harry has grown. See how much he looks like James; I know he did before, when you saw him, but something has hardened in him. If I had time, or energy, or the ability to wish for a different hero, it would be making me incredibly sad. Instead, I’m just proud. I’m proud for both of us. He has of course disappeared, which is just what any of us would have done. The others are frustrated, but there is so much of James in him. I just trust the boy implicitly.

Sirius, I’m married. I suppose that’s why I’m writing? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. I’m guessing you’d be surprised enough, with how I used to go on about marriage. But still, I’ll surprise you more. I’ve married a woman.

She’s wonderful. She’s….well, there is an age difference, a large one, and I can already hear you howling at me, but whatever. She is exactly what I need; she reminds me of you, in some ways. Doesn’t take herself too seriously. Knows how to make me laugh. Smart as a whip. And there is a softness and a joy in her that you never quite managed.

I love her, I really do.

She wore me down into it, and most people have been thinking that I was hesitating because of the war, because of the danger of who I am. It may have been part of it, but what really broke me was her saying, ‘he’d want you to be happy’.

It made me laugh, that sentence. Because, Sirius Orion, we both know how untrue that is. If you were here, and we were not together, we both know you’d do everything in your power to make sure I didn’t end up with anyone else either. You’d pout and you’d rage and you’d whine and you’d prattle on and on to anyone who’d listen. I actually suspect that wherever you are right now, beyond the veil and all that rot, you are currently screaming blue murder. I can almost hear you, shouting _Remus Lupin, you said always. Remus John you promised_. Only I’ve decided that I have to let you go. Just. I do, don’t I? Thing is Sirius, I said forever when you were supposed to be here, forever. And then you were gone.

And then you were gone for good.

Tonks is pregnant. I’m terrified. The Wolf terrifies me. The war terrifies me. There is too much fear to even begin to scratch the surface. I think I’ll ask Harry to be Godfather, although even that scares the shit out of me. I keep thinking of your face, when James asked you. I feel awful putting the responsibility on the seventeen year old who is at the front of a battle for our very existence. But who else would I ask?  
Everyone else is dead.

Arthur says that I look tired, too tired. And I know it’s true. I don’t sleep often enough these days, which is ironic from the King of the Nap. I am just too afraid.

I found all the letters. The box. I didn’t realise how many of them you still had. They were under the stairs, behind the old candelabras in that very Family Black chest. I’m still at the house, which is horrible, but as you know, my options are limited. I hid in the room we slept in first, while Tonks was on duty and the house was empty. I drank too much. I read them all. I put on all the old records. I even listened to Jimmy Jazz...god, how you hated that song. I hadn't heard it in years, but even the first few bars had me practically hearing you shout _turn it off or I shall go find The Clash just to demand an explanation_. I don't know why you kept all those letters. Well...maybe that's not true. Still. I put them back, and I’m not going to take them out again, if it’s all the same to you.

I’ve already made a decision; I’m not naming our child after you, not in any way. That isn’t the legacy he needs, not the story I want to tell him. You wonder how I know it is a boy? I don’t wonder. I am not fully human. You used to hate when I'd say that, but. It's true.

I am so close I can taste it, Pads. To happiness. To comfort. I’m doing the best I know how. I wear too many cardigans and keep letting my hair get long. Tonks wakes me in the middle of the night to make love. I can turn the heat up and I am always full. It is enough. It is more than that, and it is far more than I expected.

Obviously, we weren’t prepared for what happened. I want to say that twelve years of believing you had killed our brother and his wife didn’t change anything. It’d be a lie, though, wouldn’t it? I think so. Those couple of months, the living in the house? We were both too different to come back from that. It’s not your fault, and it isn’t mine. It was just the way our timelines went.

You are my first love. You will always be that. I can’t remember who I would have been, anymore, if you hadn’t given me those years. I guess I should say thank you. I hope that your time with me was enough. That’s all I have left, and I want it to be have been enough. 

Don't worry, silly puppy man. It's still Love, always. Just in a different way.

Yours,

Remus Lupin 

* * *

_ December 1999 _

“Hermione,” Harry said, glancing at her hair, amber in the firelight as she swirled her glass of wine.

“Hmm?” she said, tipping her head back over the arm of the chair to look at him lazily. It had been a long day, and she had turned up asking for food and wine. Ron was out of town, visiting Bill, and she hated being in their flat alone.

“Sirius and Lupin were lovers,” Harry said bluntly, not standing on ceremony. He’d had this information for weeks, and he felt like he was going to burst.

“What?” she said, sitting up and turning to face him.

“I found letters. When I was getting the house ready to sell,” he shrugged. “They were definitely….together. Seems like for a while”

Hermione studied him for what felt like ages. When she started speaking, she pulled a typical Hermione and tried to ask ten things at once.

“How do you...are you...is it…” she wavered, finally sighing in frustration.

“Hermione,” he grinned, “Pick a question.”

“Are you okay?” she said quickly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you didn’t know,” she sighed in exasperation.

“Hermione, the things I don’t know about them….could fill a biography. There wasn’t time,” he said sadly. His sadness was more resignation than anything at this point. “It actually makes a lot of sense, don’t you think?”

“It certainly explains some things, yes.”

They both sat in silence staring at the fire for a moment.

Finally, Hermione whispered, “God. It’s awful, isn’t it? He believed that Sirius had...For so long…”

Harry had already thought about that. He’d also remembered some other things, though. He’d had a long time to sort through the information.

“Yeah, it’s awful. But they both lived long enough to find out the truth. Then, Remus was here with him for a while. Do you think they...do you think they left things well?”

“They had to have, didn’t they? I really believe that Remus loved Tonks.”

“Me too,” he nodded, glad she agreed. “I think maybe it’s just a piece of the puzzle.”

“What puzzle is that?”

“The Marauders Puzzle.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Makes you feel like you understand your dad better, huh?”

“And Peter,” he whispered. “And myself.”

“Good,” she said, turning back to the fire . “Glad you’re handling this so well.”

He was, because, beyond any animosity at never having the truth, the letters had explained a lot. His father’s friends had loved each other. And it was nice, to know that the people who loved him had loved others, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [ Tumblr](https://professordrarry.tumblr.com)!


End file.
